


Captured! Tortured!

by karathegoddess



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Captured!, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fort Drakon (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, Injured Warden, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Warden tortured, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karathegoddess/pseuds/karathegoddess
Summary: After Anora's betrayal, Thea Cousland finds herself at the mercy of a Howe loyalist in the dungeons of Fort Drakon.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Damnit, Anora!

Alistair felt relief as he saw Anora sprint inside the room. Wynne was close behind, Zevran wore a sour expression, but allowed it to soften as he tried to calm the Mabari as he whined for his owner.  
“Eamon! I may have done a terrible thing!” Anora exclaimed. Beast growled at Anora as Wynne and Zevran scoffed.  
“To put it mildly.” Wynne jabbed.  
“What’s this? She throws her saviour to the wolves, and now she has second thoughts.”  
“What?” Alistair demanded. “What is it you might have done?” The relief he had felt only seconds ago pulled taught in his chest.  
“What in Andraste’s name has happened? Are you alright?” Eamon asked.  
“The Warden has been captured.” She said. Alistair’s heart dropped to his stomach and he couldn’t help, but glared at Anora as she hardly sounded concerned.  
“And this may have been your fault. Maybe? Perhaps?” Alistair mocked. Zevran pat Beast’s head to calm the whimpers at the mention of his owner.  
Anora waved Alistair’s words off.  
“Nevermind that. The question is how to free her. Cauthrian will take her to Fort Drakon. Getting there will be no small feat.” Zevran circled the queen and stood next to Alistair.  
“I’m still waiting for a reason not to slit her throat and toss her in the river. Still haven’t heard one yet.” Beast barked in agreement. Wynne ignored the statement, seemingly indifferent to Zevran's suggestion.  
“Alistair, let me go with you. She was troubled as it was, having finally avenged her family in killing Howe. I cannot imagine this is helpful.” Alistair nodded and turned to the queen.  
"We'll talk when we get back. Assuming Zevran get's his reason, that is." Alistair spoke cooly. He and Wynne began toward the door, both being sure to bump into Anora on the way out.


	2. Ouch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Anora's betrayal, Thea Cousland finds herself at the mercy of a Howe loyalist in the dungeons of Fort Drakon.

Thea Cousland let a scream rip through her throat as the knee splitter tightened. It indeed lived up to its name. A problem with the current kind of torture being inflicted was that there was no reason for it. Her torturer didn’t want information or a fake confession. All Silo, this Howe loyalist fanatic wanted was to see her suffer. And suffer she did. During her fight with Howe, he’d managed to land a swipe on her left eye, after all she’d spared the man all her life. He of course knew how she fought. A long vertical gash had swollen up her eye, though Wynne had assured her at the time it hadn’t damaged the eye itself. The first thing the torturer had done was shove her head in a full sack of salt.  
The days and night’s dragged, the pain increased, and Thea’s resentment for Anora grew. She felt another searing pain on her abs, the scent of sizzling flesh burned her nostrils. Her stomach and back were now covered in overlapping burns and brands from the glowing orange metal. Thea thought if anyone was to rescue her, there wouldn’t be anything left for them to find if it carried on like this. She had been through enough for it to be believable at this point, so after a particularly blood curdling scream, she pretended to pass out. As predicted, Silo wanted nothing from an unconscious victim. Someone pulled her arm to drag her so hard, her shoulder popped and it took all the self restraint she contained to keep her eyes closed and remain limp. After the repeated yanking on her arm, keys jingled and a creaking door opened. She waited feigning unconsciousness, long past the door was slammed shut. She decided to avoid suspicion to allow herself to sleep. The first time sleep had ever come easy to her was post constant torture for an undisclosed amount of time.  
When Thea awoke the first thing she was aware of was pain. Her eye hurt, her knee throbbed vigorously, and her burns screamed. She opened her eyes nonetheless. The cell had been just up the stairs from where she’d been tortured. It was spacious, but smelled of urine, rotten meat, and copper. Thea’s knee bled freely and only in her underwear, there was no cloth to staunch the flow of blood. She slowly and carefully moved to stand. Thea winced as any weight was applied to the busted knee. She put her hand on the door as if willing it to open.  
“You look like you’ve been dragged through ten kinds of crap, friend. What’d you do?”  
“I killed Rendon Howe.” Her voice was raw from overexertion. Thea recalled the moment. The moment as she flailed feebly in Duncan’s firm grasp and begged for her parents. The memory was overwhelming and she relived it often, both awake and in her dreams. Thea couldn’t help, but to be proud to announce Howe was dead by her hands. Thea’s knee gave and she bit down on the inside of her cheek. The other prisoner winced on her behalf, then breathed a laugh. He had a black and purple eye that contorted with his face. He brushed a strand of grimy blonde hair away and tucked it behind his ear.  
“Sounds more like a public service, but still, they’ll hang you for it.”  
“My friends are coming for me.” Thea said.  
“You think so, do you?”  
“Alistair will come for me.” She said confidently.  
“Just one person, assaulting Fort Drakon. Good luck with that.”  
“Wynne will too.” Thea wasn’t as positive, but the woman reminded her so much of her mother. Wynne had seemed to grow fond of Thea as well. Even if it wasn’t Wynne, Alistair and someone else was going to come for her. If they weren’t already under way. Thea just had to wait. And pray to the Maker that they wouldn’t take her back for torture in the meanwhile.


	3. Rescue!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Anora's betrayl, Thea Cousland finds herself at the mercy of a Howe loyalist in the dungeons of Fort Drakon. Luckily, Alistair and Wynne are on there way for the rescue.

“...They’ve been knitting for weeks. Weeks! Like old ladies possessed. You don’t want to disappoint them, do you?” Alistair said, following Wynne’s lead. Wynne pursed her lips as if to keep from laughing. The guard rolled his eyes and let them past. “I can’t believe that worked.” He whispered. Wynne smiled.   
“Stay calm, Alistair. We’ll get through this.” Her voice was as soothing as always, but Alistair was certain she was worried.   
“I hope you’re right.” He said. 'For Thea’s sake.' Though he left that part out. Alistair didn’t even have to talk to the next guard, as Wynne did her best meek old lady impression. The man let them pass once again. “Alright, we need a plan.”  
“We can handle this. We’ve faced worse already.” Wynne reassured him. Alistair took a sharp right and went up the ramp. He vaguely wondered why a ballista was inside, but decided against questioning it further as he fired the arrow into the opposite stone wall. The guard in front of the door ran from her post to see what the commotion was. Wynne and Alistair slipped through quickly. They only ran a bit further before some guard recognised them as intruders and the mage and almost-templar were forced to fight their way through. Though the surprise of intruders passed so many checkpoints gave the two the clear advantage.   
They finally entered a door, greeted by two guards, that Wynne and Alistair worked together to dispatch. Alistair quickly retrieved the key of the fallen guards body and crammed it into the lock.   
“Thank the Maker-” Alistair had planned to say ‘thank the Maker you’re alright,” But the last words caught in his throat when he saw Thea. A thousand different knots tied themselves up in his stomach. Thea’s normally tanned skin was snow white in complexion. Her eye had a long deep vertical slash through it. Wynne had warned him of that one. Thea’s entire stomach was covered in fresh hot iron burns, so many of them, that they overlapped and crisscrossed, enveloping the entire surface area. Her dark curls were braided over a shoulder that hung limp at her side. Worst off seemed to be her knee. The jagged wounds on the front and hamstrings were particularly nasty and Alistair wondered how she even stood or what the hell could even inflict such wounds. She took a step forward, her face turning even more white than before, which Alistair didn’t even know was possible.   
“Took you long enough.” She said with a weak smile. “C’mon, we need to let the other guy out.” Thea said. Tortured for days, but still worried for others first. Alistair couldn’t help, but find it as infuriating as it was admirable. She limped to the other cell and opened it. The man looked surprised, but bowed and quickly took his leave. Thea turned to follow, but that knee or whatever remained of it, couldn’t handle the sudden movement and it buckled under the weight. Alistair had lunged forward and caught her, lowering her to the ground.   
He felt bad that the way he held her put pressure on her injuries. But if it hurt, she didn’t indicate it. In fact, he could feel her shrink further back into his arms. Wynne was able to soothe the burns, though she couldn’t take away the angry puckered scars that enveloped her front midsection. Alistair held Thea down, while Wynne popped her shoulder back in place. He nearly forgot how difficult the task of holding a berserker down was. The eye would need a few stitches, but the knee was going to need a surgeon and a good one at that. Wynne had only barely managed to stop the bleeding.  
Thea procured some undershirts from a nearby chest, crying out at the putting even the light fabric over the fresh burns. Armour wasn't even an option is cotton stung so bad. Thea gritted her teeth and accepted her confiscated sword that Alistair handed to her. Her family’s sword. He’d watched her countless times find, buy, or even craft far stronger weapons, but she always ended up giving them to himself or Sten. And always returned to the Cousland sword and the shield of Highever. Always.   
They moved out, Thea keeping surprisingly good pace with them, despite looking a white as a sheet. She even held her own in battles. Only one more group of guards stood between them and freedom. Thea narrowed her eyes as one in particular  
“Silo.” She said with disdain.   
“I’m impressed. Most who get off my wrack don’t recognise me-” Thea wasted no time and bashed her shield against his nose, the force from even a weakened arm knocked the man clean to the ground. While he was stunned Thea turned to block a sword to her left, disarming the attacker. Her sword pierced the man’s chest, just as she was wrenching it out, Silo punched her bad knee. The hamstring caving like a stack of loose stones, forcing her to one knee.   
“You killed a great man, Lady Cousland. The murder of Rendon Howe must be answered for!” She screamed in her throat as she felt an icy punch to her stomach. Thea could taste blood and bile on the back of her tongue and she smiled madly at Silo.   
“Don’t worry, you’ll be with your friend again soon.” Thea used the last bit of strength left inside her and swung the blade cut clean through Silo’s neck, spraying her in crimson.   
Thea tried to use the stone wall as support to stand, but frowned when a stabbing pain flooded through her abdomen. She looked down and realized she hadn’t been punched at all. Thea pressed her hand over the wound, but the hot sticky liquid seeped through her fingers. She attempted once more, but only slid down the wall. She watched Alistair and Wynne use their combined specialties to dispatch the last guard. Thea’s vision blurred as the two ran over. Alistair used a fresh cloth to wrap the knee that once again gushed blood. Wynne’s eyes widened at the new injury. She quickly spouted several spells. Alarm spread through Alistairs’ face.   
“...If I get through this...I’m going to...kill Anora.” Thea said, hacking up a mouthful of blood. Alistair smiled through his watering eyes.   
“All of our friends want to kill her. You’ll have to get in line. Mind you, that’s assuming she’s not already dead when we return.” He said with a broken laugh. Thea’s eyelids pressed down and Alistair gently shook her.   
“Why are you crying...? I’m the one who was tortured... If anyone should be crying it’s me.” Thea pointed out as she gently wiped his wet cheeks with her thumb, accidentally smearing it with blood.   
“True. But, you never cry. Someone’s gotta do it for you.” Wynne cursed, which sounded completely foreign to both Thea and Alistair’s ears.   
“Carry her. I will protect us.” Wynne ordered. Thea hissed as Alistair picked her up, the crook of her knee, smearing his sleeve in crimson. Her head lulled lazily against Alistair’s chest.   
“Hey, hey, stay awake, okay.” Alistair pleaded, but Thea felt as though a steel door was pressing down on her consciousness. Her vision blurred more and more, until there was just black. “Thea, stay with me!”


	4. Embrace!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Anora's betrayal, Thea Cousland had found herself at the mercy of a Howe loyalist in the dungeons of Fort Drakon. Alistair and Wynne had managed to rescue her, but not before she received grievous injuries. Alistair comfort's Thea, who has a difficult time dealing with her experiences in Fort Drakon.

Silo’s wore a terrifying grin as he held the knee splitter in one hand and a hot iron in the other, Thea jolted awake. A wave of pain as powerful as the ocean, washed over her whole body. She cried out and felt hands supporting her hip and back in an instant, gingerly guiding her back down in the bed.  
“Hey, easy, easy. You’re okay. We're back at Eamon’s estate. You’re safe right now.” Alistair reassured, sitting at the edge of the bed. Thea was alarmed that her left eye was still shrouded in darkness, until she realized it was a bandage. There weren’t any distant screams or the sound of chainmail boots pacing the corridor. And the smell - oh the smell was delightful. Vanilla and cinnamon. Much preferable then burnt flesh. Though the burns on her stomach throbbed, especially after the sudden movement, the mattress beneath was comfortable and the fire roared in the hearth in front of the couch.   
Thea tried to take a few stablizing breaths and allow the sight of her surroundings to comfort her. Alistair picked up her hand and pressed it to his mouth. That hand distributed far more heat that the hearth. They took a moment to stare in each other’s eyes before Alistair placed a kiss on Thea’s lips. It tasted of salty tears and metallic blood. When he parted he pressed his forehead against hers.   
“Are you alright?” Thea asked as he sat back up. She placed her hand on Alistair's cheek, Alistair put his hand on top, before tilting his head back ever so lightly to kiss her calloused palm.   
“Yeah, yup. Wait, shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” He smiled. “How are you doing?”   
“I’m okay.” Thea averted her gaze as she spoke.  
“Sneaky, but I know you too well. Do you want to talk about it?” Alistair asked softly.  
“How are my wounds?” She asked, changing the subject.   
“Pretty much everything is going to fade to a pretty scar. Even that stomach one which you nearly bled out from by the way. The only major difficulty was the knee. They said no matter what treatment, it’s always going to hurt and they’ll be a permanent limp.” He explained slowly and carefully. Thea closed her eyes and took a deep breath again before opening them. It sucked. No matter how well she could take the news, it wouldn’t change that it still sucked. She hoped it wouldn’t affect the way soldiers treated her.   
“Great, now I can grow up to be the crazy old lady with the war stories.” She joked. Alistair smiled.   
“Crazy is certainly an adjective to describe you, so you’re halfway there already. Here, let me change your bandages.” He sat Thea up and she found indeed that the vast majority of her injuries were but a dull pain, but her knee pounded with a vengeance. Alistair’s hands were soft as he wrapped a fresh bandage. He placed a firm, but gentle hand on top of her stomach wound while he secured the bandage. Thea put her hand on top of his. They both stayed like that for a moment, before Alistair took off the covering over her eye and said he was instructed to take it off when she awoke. He moved to the knee, swiveling it carefully over the edge of the bed.   
With the pain of bending it, it felt almost like Silo tightening the screws of that wretched device and for a moment she feared she was back there. In the dismal dungeon, the desperate shrieks, the air of despair, and worst of all the pain. The unbearable, unfathomable amount of pain.   
“Thea, can you hear me!?” Alistair squeezed one of her hands and the other rested on her shoulder. His eyes were clouded in a layer of concern. Relief of her safety, Thea leaned forward abruptly, burying her head in Alistair’s chest. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve got you.” He cooed. Holding her tighter. Her shoulders trembled and something that Alistair had never before seen happened.   
Thea Cousland began to cry.   
Alistair stood shifting their position to straighten the bent leg and held her as he leaned back on the bed. The sobs were long and hard, full of an anguish Alistair never knew she’d possessed. He pressed a kiss into her curls allowing her as much time as she needed to get it all out. After quite some time she appeared to have calmed.   
“I was so scared...that-that you wouldn’t come in time.” Her words muffled into his chest.   
“So was I.” Alistair said. Thea moved so that she could listen to Alistair’s heartbeat.   
“If I was dead, who’d be able to command all those armies? Certainly not you.” She sniffled. Alistair chuckled. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry.” She said, self consciously wiping her wet cheeks.   
“It’s okay to, you know.” He said. Thea shook her head quickly.   
“No. People don’t want to look at a leader of any sort and see that. They’d think them weak. And if they didn’t think them weak, they’d think the worst possible thing has happened, in order for such a brave commander to shed tears.” Thea explained. Alistair frowned.   
“Yeah. Unfortunately, you’re...right.” He sighed. There was a long comfortable silence between them, before Alistair spoke again. “You may have to hide your tears in front of the people, but you never have to hide them from me.” She burrowed closer and Alistair drank in the comfort of her weight in his arms, trying to forget the panic in his chest as he and Wynne had sprinted back to Eamon’s estate. Thea craned her neck to look at him.   
“Thank you.” She whispered. Alistair placed a kiss on Thea’s forehead and the two of them stayed entwined for as long as they could get away with, reveling in each other's warmth and comfort. Both thankful for more time together.


End file.
